


Cheaters

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Commitment, Committed Relationship, Drunk Sex, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, First Time, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, One Night Stands, Partner Betrayal, Public Sex, Romance, Sexual Experimentation, Trust, Trust Issues, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has a respectable girlfriend because he definitely isn’t gay. Eames has a boyfriend who probably couldn’t spell ‘professionalism’ but at least gives Eames the time of day. Arthur and Eames hate each other, and yet they seem to always end up fucking anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheaters

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> **Important Note** : I want to make it clear that I am not endorsing cheating with this story. I apologize if anyone is upset or angered by this story or topics and situations within it. But you have been warned, and I have made my personal beliefs clear. This is for storytelling purposes only.

Arthur has a perfectly respectable girlfriend because he definitely isn’t gay. Her name is Anna and she has midnight black hair and green eyes. It wasn’t that he found these traits particularly attractive; it was just that they provided a much needed change from the traits he had grown to hate on one excessively annoying co-worker. Not to say he had gone out of his way to find a woman who looked exactly opposite to Eames, because that would be ridiculous, but it was probably the reason why he found her narrow lips and serious eyes so appealing.

 

Eames has a not-so-respectable boyfriend with short black hair and brown eyes – common traits, he’ll remind you if you think of giving him a sly, knowing glance. His boyfriend goes by the name of Toby, which doesn’t really roll off the tongue eloquently – _Toby and Eames_. _Eames and Toby_? – but people don’t generally pick a partner based on how their names sound together. His boyfriend probably couldn’t spell the word ‘professionalism’ if you handed him a dictionary, but at least he was willing to admit that he was gay. That, and he actually gave Eames the time of day.

 

Being in a relationship with an average person when you were an illegal dreamworker could be difficult, but it could be even more difficult dating someone in your field. Things could grow rather awkward if you were pitted against one another on opposing teams for a job. And there was always an issue of trust that could never be removed after you gave someone the opportunity to root around in your subconscious like you had your favourite – and worst – memories set up on tables at a garage sale.

 

Both dream workers found their relationships to be a little strained, but they made it work.

 

#

 

Arthur made sure to see Anna at least once every month or so, flying her out to visit him in whatever exotic location he was currently working if he couldn’t fly home. She was sometimes against this offer since she was the CEO of a rather important financial company. She had her own money and her own work to be focused on, which was fine with Arthur. It meant that she was too busy to really care what it was Arthur did as long as he came home to be a good boyfriend at the scheduled times. And Arthur was nothing if not professional and proper.

 

Each time he saw Anna he would be sure to bring a bouquet of blue violets – her favourite – take her out to dinner – Italian was usually the preferred choice – and compliment her until the stars faded with jealousy – which wasn’t difficult because she truly was beautiful. She really wasn’t one for playing around, so their relationship was never a joking matter. Everything would be planned and, if not serious, then at least structured to an agreed-upon setup. Arthur loved her, but more as a comfortable companion than as a partner. 

 

The conversations were enjoyable, Arthur and Anna both extremely knowledgeable in their fields of expertise and always pleased to display such intelligence. But they were also polite enough to listen until the other was finished speaking, never making the other feel ignored. Their apartment in Los Angeles was really Anna’s since she took up permanent residence there, but Arthur had eventually agreed to leave some toiletries and a few outfits there.

 

The sex was good. Not great, but not bad either. They had both learned what the other liked and needed to get off, familiarity easing the awkward fumblings of new couples over time. Their coupling was always a mutual exchange, just like every other part of their relationship – they treated it like a fair business deal of mutual benefit. Arthur always made sure that Anna came, not wanting to disappoint, and he also made sure that he always whispered the right name when he felt the urge to speak. Anna never commented on the fact that his movements were a little mechanical, because it worked.

 

She never suspected anything. Arthur knew this for certain because Anna was an extremely jealous woman. She didn’t care what Arthur did for work, where his money came from or where it went, or what country he happened to be working in during any given month. But when it came to women – the occasional times Anna _insisted_ that Arthur had been staring at another woman – she turned into a five year old. She would fume and accuse and sulk. It was frustrating, especially since Arthur _wasn’t_ looking at any other women. But in an odd way it was nice; it made Arthur feel desired – prized.

 

When he thought about it, that was probably the driving force that eventually led him to cheat.

 

#

 

Eames met Toby in a bar in New Orleans when he was lying low after a job. It had been after his first job with Arthur and Eames was still riled up and agitated at the other dream worker. Eames couldn’t exactly say _why_ – Arthur was civil if not polite even though he was distant – but there was something about the man that just irritated Eames. It might have been Arthur’s bad habit of acting holier-than-thou about pretty much everything, or it might have been the fact that Arthur was so professional and strict that it made Eames’ brain hurt.

 

Either way, Eames had not been in a good mood when he wandered into the dark bar and ordered himself some scotch. Toby had walked in shortly thereafter and sidled up to him, taking the next stool beside him. Their relationship didn’t exactly start with a story they could tell friends and family – if they had friends and family to tell:

 

“What’s a good looking fella like you doing in a place like this?”

 

“Piss off.”

 

Toby had been persistent though, and Eames had some pent up energy to burn. So he gulped down more alcohol until his throat burned with it, handed over his money due, and dragged the black-haired, brown-eyed man back to his hotel. The sex had been great that first time, Eames pressing Toby face down into the mattress and driving in hard, and they had both fallen asleep in bed afterwards due to exhaustion.

 

The morning after was a quiet affair where Eames ordered them both some breakfast because he didn’t feel like getting out of bed. He had been expecting Toby to steal his food, forget to say thanks, and excuse himself from the room; not to sound mean, but Toby really didn’t seem like the commitment type. But after their food had been devoured Toby brushed the crumbs of toast off the sheets and curled his body up against Eames’ side.

 

It wasn’t really what Eames was looking for; he just wanted to release some frustration. But it was relaxing and somewhat comforting to have a warm body pressed against his own, time slipping by unnoticed. He figured it couldn’t last though and told Toby that he traveled almost constantly for work. He was expecting the other man to either shrug and leave, or make some big scene about being used and _then_ leave. Instead, Toby kissed his upper arm and told him that he didn’t mind as long as he came back to visit and only slept with him.

 

It sounds mean to say, but dating Toby was like having a pet dog he left with the neighbours when he was on a business trip – which was quite often. Eames would call every few days to check in when he was at work – worried something might happen if he went too long without contact. And when he finished a job he would fly back to the little bungalow Toby called home in New Orleans. He would accept Toby’s eager embrace and fuck him into the mattress – thankful that Toby didn’t ask why their sex was always so angry right after Eames got off a job with Arthur. Then he would spend a week or so spoiling the man rotten before disappearing for more work.

 

During the times Eames went longer than a few weeks without disappearing for a job though, their relationship went downhill. Not into an argument-filled downward spiral that would eventually lead to their demise. More a mediocre routine in which Toby’s excitement at having him back faded to an easy contentment and Eames grew restless but was too polite to mention it. When he had first met Toby he was expecting the man to be a non-committal hippie who spent all his time painting. He was right on all accounts except for the commitment.

 

Toby acted like they were a married couple and got just as jealous as a possessive spouse if he thought Eames was being a little too friendly with someone else. Eames didn’t really love Toby as anything more than a friendly pet – which again sounds mean, but no one ever promised that the world was fair – but he also had no real interest in being with anyone else. He flirted because that was his nature, but he didn’t think finding someone else would work out any better. At least Toby was willing to admit he was gay, and was willing to give Eames the time of day when he came home.

 

And it was nice to feel wanted.

 

#

 

Arthur and Eames hated each other. At work they always clashed, their methods on how to do everything polar opposites. Arthur liked to follow the rules – as few rules as there actually _were_ in illegal dream work – prep, prepare, and plan endlessly. Eames, by comparison, enjoyed the adrenaline rush of going into a job and still having a few surprises waiting. Of course Eames valued the research Arthur did, though he’d never say so aloud, but there was a limit to how much you should prepare. After that you just had to use your own imagination and ingenuity to combat the surprises the dreamscape had waiting for you. You couldn’t prepare for everything.

 

Arthur thought Eames was a moron. Eames thought Arthur was a moron as well. They were both brilliant in their own fields but were too stubborn to acknowledge the other’s skills and assets. Arthur would point out some information on a mark he thought would be helpful for Eames to work on in whatever role he was playing. Eames would brush him off and insist that no, he would have a bigger impact if he referenced a different childhood memory. They were both right – both methods would have brought success – but they both took the inevitable argument as a personal attack, which it shouldn’t have been but definitely was.

 

They hated each other outside of work as well, on the rare occasions they ran into one another ahead of or after a job before disappearing to some other corner of the globe. Arthur and Eames always felt judged around one another, which infuriated both of them. Just because Arthur was serious and professional while he worked didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy a good drink after a job to calm his nerves. But he felt Eames would judge him harshly for ‘giving in’. And even though Eames liked some freedom with his work and teased Arthur constantly to keep his sanity, didn’t mean he didn’t know how to take certain things seriously. But he assumed Arthur would think he was still joking, or faking.

 

They hated each other because they were both forced to maintain a role in the real world that they only wanted to exist in the working world. But even though they really couldn’t stand each other, they always seemed to end up fucking anyway.

 

#

 

The first time was a drunken mistake.

 

They had gone to some seedy bar in a back corner of Prague, Dom, Mal, Arthur and Eames ready to celebrate after a job well done. It had been Dom’s idea, and Mal had made sure to guilt Arthur and Eames into coming. But then, just two drinks later, Dom and Mal excused themselves, explaining that they had an early flight the next day. Arthur and Eames both had afternoon flights the next day – Arthur to Los Angeles and Eames to New Orleans – and they both wanted a drink badly enough to suffer through the other’s company long enough to get the alcohol down their throats. This progressed in a rather unhealthy fashion when they began taking this as a competition to out-drink the other.

 

They ended up in some booth in the back of the bar, empty glasses scattered across the tabletop to prove their accomplishments. The bartender had forgotten about them and they were mostly out of sight from the rest of the bar – which was nearly deserted by this time of night anyway. They were both sitting close together, their bodies thrumming with alcohol and heat. “Where are you headed tomorrow, darling?” Eames asked him with a quiet, slurred voice.

 

“To visit Anna,” Arthur offered, the alcohol loosening his tongue. “My girlfriend,” he thought to add.

 

“Aren’t you gay?”

 

“No.”

 

“Bi then.”

 

“No.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“So you love her?” Arthur hesitated for a second too long. Eames gave an obnoxious bark of laughter. “I knew it.”

 

“I do love her,” Arthur pressed, some truth in his words.

 

“But…?”

 

Arthur shrugged, not knowing how to explain and not expecting Eames to be truly interested anyway. Silence fell between them and they both reached for their glasses, only to find them empty. “Where are you going tomorrow?” Arthur decided to ask in return, though he couldn’t tell you why.

 

“Visiting Toby.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you love him?” Arthur asked as a form of retaliation.

 

Eames sighed, staring at the bottom of his empty glass mournfully. “Maybe.” Silence fell again, the speakers playing music closer to the front of the bar. “It’s nice to have someone waiting for you to come home, you know? To feel wanted.” Eames bared a piece of his soul, waiting for it to get crushed beneath Arthur’s designer shoe’s sole.

 

Arthur glanced over at him for a moment before setting his glass back on the table. The glass touched other empty glasses and gave a little _clink_ sound. “Yeah,” Arthur admitted.

 

“Yeah?” Eames raised an eyebrow, also setting his own glass down.

 

Arthur nodded. “Yeah.”

 

To be frank, it was the longest conversation they had had together. It was the most they had ever learned about one another. It was the closest they had ever come to understanding one another. And they were both piss drunk and would curse the memory in the morning if it even existed since it would be tied to an undeniably shitty taste of vomit in the backs of their mouths.

 

Suddenly Eames was gone from the bench and on the sticky floor on his knees between Arthur’s legs. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what was going on, and wasn’t nearly sober enough to protest when Eames unbuttoned his pants in a hurry and pulled them down his thighs. Arthur watched, senses hazy as Eames took him deep to the back of his mouth, choked, and then swallowed around him.

 

Eames knew how to use his mouth, and not just to talk himself in or out of a situation. He pinned Arthur’s legs to the wooden bench so tightly the Point Man could barely squirm. Eames knew there would be bruises on Arthur’s thighs from his hold, and that sent a thrill through him when he realized Arthur was headed home to his girlfriend. He was too drunk to think about what he might be kneeling in on the dirty floor, focus only on Arthur’s definitely-swelling cock in his mouth.

 

Arthur wasn’t gay but that didn’t mean a blowjob from a man didn’t feel as good as from a woman. Though he had to admit that the muddled realization that Eames was sucking him off the night before Eames went home to see his boyfriend had Arthur bucking into that hot mouth, searching for more. He wanted the Forger’s voice to be rough tomorrow when he said hello to this ‘Toby’ and remember why.

 

Eames unbuttoned his own pants with trembling fingers and worked his own length distractedly, attention mainly on Arthur’s leaking cock. It didn’t take long before Arthur tugged on Eames’ hair, indicating silently that he was close. But Eames didn’t remove his mouth, instead hollowing his cheeks with an almost cruel suction. They came together with muffled groans, Arthur’s come painting Eames’ mouth while Eames’ come stuck to his palm.

 

As they came both of them threw their heads back at the rush of pleasure. Arthur hit his head on the brick wall behind him and Eames smacked his head on the gum-covered underside of the table. The momentary strike of pain gave them enough clarity in the moment to ensure that the next morning when they woke up in their own hotel rooms, sick, hung-over and alone, they would remember the previous night’s encounter as they boarded their respective planes to visit their partners.

 

#

 

Arthur hated owing anyone anything, which was why he wanted to pay Eames back for the blowjob in the seedy bar he was lucky to have not contracted a disease from. It wasn’t because he was curious, or because he thought it would feel fantastic having Eames begging him for more. He acknowledged, briefly, the pleasure he had taken from the other man’s mouth. But this was about maintaining a mutual relationship and clearing all debts.

 

The opportunity came a few months later after their next job was complete. It had been a difficult challenge, and a worthwhile payoff, and Dom and Mal – again – had wanted to celebrate. Only this time they thought it would be a wonderful idea to invite Arthur and Eames – and their partners – over to their house. It seemed a little careless to be inviting co-workers of an illegal business over, but they had become quite a strong team. They were no longer strangers, and they had learned to trust and rely on one another – despite Arthur and Eames continuing to clash on just about everything.

 

Arthur and Eames didn’t acknowledge the night in Prague but they both still remembered it vividly. This made the introductions at the Cobb house rather awkward, though only for the Point Man and Forger. When Arthur shook Toby’s hand all he could wonder was whether Eames had ever spontaneously given him a semi-public blowjob in a bar. When Eames shook Anna’s hand all he could wonder was whether she gave blowjobs good enough to cause Arthur to squirm the way he had in Prague. The answer to both of those questions was ‘no’ but since the questions were never voiced, neither dream worker ever learned the answer.

 

Dom was a better cook than anyone had been expecting and Mal was able to keep a constant conversation going effortlessly. The three pairs eventually ended up in the Cobb’s backyard, sipping lemonade to fight the summer heat. The atmosphere had turned relaxed and comfortable even though Arthur stayed with Anna and Eames with Toby, neither pair mingling too much. At one point Eames excused himself to the washroom and, seeing his chance, Arthur excused himself as well.

 

Arthur closed the main floor bathroom to make it look occupied and then climbed the stairs to corner Eames at the upstairs bathroom. Eames looked genuinely surprised when Arthur grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the washroom, pushing him forward to sit on the toilet seat lid while he locked the door. Then he spun and fell to his knees, thankful that this was not the same seedy bar where this had all began. He even had a fluffy violet carpet to cushion his knees.

 

“Arthur, what are you—?” was all Eames managed to whisper out before Arthur got the button and zipper undone and the man’s pants bunched at his knees. Arthur leaned forward and licked the underside of Eames’ cock, which was already starting to swell with interest. Even though both of their partners were just downstairs and even though Eames could easily shove Arthur away, Eames didn’t make a sound of protest. Taking this as a good sign Arthur took Eames fully into his mouth and sucked, bringing the man to full hardness.

 

It was during this encounter when they were both sober and conscious that they learned a few things about one another. Eames was vocal. Arthur was vocal but tried to hide it, embarrassed of what he might say. Eames liked to thread his fingers into Arthur’s hair but didn’t lead the pace, which was good because Arthur hated to be rushed. Eames liked a lot of tongue and fingers while Arthur liked a lot of wet suction. Arthur squirmed enough with pleasure that he needed to be pinned down but Eames merely shivered and trembled – minute reactions that showed his pleasure. It was like Eames was so wrapped up in the pleasure that he was incapable of further movement.

 

“ _Fuck_ , why are you so good at this?” Eames moaned at one point, which, when you thought about it, really was a valid question. Arthur didn’t respond – either not having an explanation or unwilling to give it. Instead he doubled his efforts and took Eames to the back of his throat, trying not to gag even though his eyes were beading with tears. He fisted himself with an uneven rhythm, moaning around his mouthful. “Come on, Arthur,” Eames begged, eyes wide as he watched Arthur work. “I’m so—so close…”

 

Even though Arthur wasn’t entirely sure about swallowing Eames’ come, he wanted to pay back his debt in full. He kept his mouth on Eames’ pulsing length and allowed Eames to fist his hair until it hurt, the Forger finally bucking up demandingly. He watched Eames cover his mouth with his own free hand when he came to keep quiet, though Arthur was still close enough to hear the drawn out, broken groan.

 

Hot come rushed into Arthur’s mouth and he worked to swallow it all even though his jaw was aching and sore. He pulled away when he thought Eames was done but one more streak of branding come shot out and splattered against Arthur’s lips and left cheek. Eames was panting, eyes unfocused but staring down at Arthur’s cock, which was still erect and hanging out of his pants. “C’mon darling…” Eames goaded, cheeks flushed as his body slowly came down from its high.

 

Arthur rested his forehead against Eames’ sweaty leg, his body already exhausted as he worked his own cock hurriedly. It only took a few tight strokes before he was choking off a moan and coming into his hand, body shaking apart with his release. They both remained still for a long moment, both trying to catch their breath. Neither of them had had any alcohol so there was no excuses for the encounter, though neither of them tried to provide an explanation. It had been over embarrassingly fast. There was something about knowing Anna and Toby were downstairs relaxing on the porch, entirely unaware of what was going on, that had both of their bodies excited and aroused at the simple thought of doing something they shouldn’t.

 

The encounter had only taken six, maybe seven minutes tops from the time Eames had disappeared from the porch. It was a long bathroom break, but not long enough to be suspicious. Nor would anyone feel comfortable enough commenting on the length of one’s visit to the restroom. Knowing they had to reappear soon, Arthur pulled himself up on shaky legs and wiped himself clean with some toilet paper before tucking himself back into his pants. Eames mimicked his movements, though their eyes were on each other.

 

Arthur turned to leave but Eames caught his hand. The Point Man was going to fight the hold, but when he turned around Eames wasn’t looking at him like he was weighed down with some unspoken declaration. All the Forger did was wipe another square of toilet paper over Arthur’s lips and cheek, cleaning up the streak of his seed Arthur had momentarily forgotten about. “Can’t have the others seeing that,” Eames chuckled somewhat nervously, tossing the toilet paper into the waste basket.

 

In a flash Arthur was on Eames, pressing their lips together in a hurried, frantic kiss. They pulled away a moment later, but they were both breathing hard again. They both looked a little dazed as they watched the other, waiting for someone to say something. Even though they hated each other, even though they both already had partners, even though Arthur definitely wasn’t gay, it felt thrilling to take pleasure in the other’s body. It felt like being shocked with pleasurable electricity when they shared forbidden contact, and it was already becoming dangerously addicting.

 

“Now we’re even,” Arthur whispered before leaving the bathroom, picking up a platter of vegetables on his way out to the porch as a prop to explain his prolonged absence.

 

# 

 

The first time they fucked it hadn’t been planned. Both Arthur and Eames had been abandoned in the same hotel after a job, all alone. They had both stayed after the job because they had both invited their respective partners to visit – Costa Rica was lovely that time of year. But Anna had cancelled because she had an important executive board meeting she couldn’t miss, and Toby had been invited to display some art at a local art gallery. Should they have gone back home to support their partners? Probably. But instead they ended up eating dinner in the hotel restaurant together, if only because eating alone was rather awkward and lonely.

 

They surprised each other by ordering the same food – the only discrepancy being baked and mashed potatoes – and even managed to maintain a somewhat civil conversation until food came. Eames asked a little bit about what Anna did and how they met, and Arthur asked about Toby’s art. It should have been uncomfortable but it felt like asking about their partner’s close friend, rather than their “friend’s” partner. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

 

When dinner came they gave up on conversation and focused on eating. They were a little concerned with how comfortable the silence between them was but couldn’t think of a conversation topic that would suit. So they ate in silence and sipped their wine and split the bill evenly. They left the table and grabbed an elevator together and when the doors slid open on Eames’ floor, the Forger shuffled his feet. “Would you like to come over?”

 

Even though the offer had been politely non-specific, Arthur knew what Eames was asking. He hesitated for just a moment and then nodded, both of them stepping out of the elevator side by side. Arthur followed a step behind Eames down the hall, wondering if he should turn back and return to his own room before he did something he shouldn’t. Anna might have abandoned him but it was for a valid reason. He could always jerk off to some porn in his room to tide himself over until he flew back to LA. But this didn’t feel like ‘tiding himself over’ while he waited. This felt like what he had been waiting for.

 

Eames was having similar thoughts, feeling guilty for even wanting to cheat on Toby. They may have more of a companionate love, friendship more than anything else, but that didn’t mean Toby deserved this. Hell, even if Eames _was_ going to cheat on him, it should be with someone Eames actually liked. Arthur, granted, might be a bit less infuriating than he used to be, but they were still far from friends. Eames didn’t even know what they were anymore. All he knew was that he wanted this.

 

By the time they reached Eames’ room and got the door open, both of them where riled up with guilt, desire and adrenaline. There was no way they could get caught here but it was easy to remember that if plans had been only slightly different, Arthur and Eames would have been going to bed with the person they were supposed to that night. Instead, Arthur followed Eames into his room and then found himself pressed bodily against the wall, the other man’s lips on his own.

 

He wrapped both arms around Eames’ neck, slamming their lips together harder. Eames placed both hands on Arthur’s hips and spread Arthur’s thighs with one of his own. Their kiss was wet and messy and uncoordinated, their lips and tongues moving too fast for any set pace to be found. Eames pressed his thigh up and Arthur’s fingers scrabbled at the fabric of Eames’ shirt, searching for a grip and bare skin as he whimpered.

 

When they broke apart for air they remained close, their lips brushing as they gasped. “I’m going to fuck you good and proper, darling,” Eames promised, voice low and rough.

 

“I’m not gay,” Arthur stated weakly, though he couldn’t figure out why he bothered. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t strictly speaking the truth either. Arthur found himself attracted to specific _people_ , not specific genders. Unfortunately for him, Eames had become one of those few rare people to catch his attention. It wasn’t like Arthur was against homosexuality; he just didn’t like being misjudged. That was the last time he bothered muttering this statement though because he was going to fuck Eames either way.

 

“Whatever you say, Arthur,” Eames said with an annoyingly-knowing smirk before sealing their lips together again and leading Arthur back towards the bed.

 

The sex was incredible. Eames could tell that Arthur was nervous about getting fucked for the first time so he let Arthur fuck him instead. And even though they had both gotten a thrill of arousal in Dom’s bathroom when they had to rush to avoid getting caught, they came to realize that they enjoyed a slow fuck even more. Arthur loved fucking into Eames slowly and making him beg for it, and Eames loved watching the expression on Arthur’s face each time he pushed in as far as he could go and paused, buried to the root, before moving again.

 

It was also amazing how they managed to make each other dizzy with lust despite this being their first time having sex. Normally it took a few encounters of awkward fumbling and nervous words before couples became aware of what their partner wanted and learned to map their body. But with Arthur and Eames it was like they had already been born with the intimate knowledge of the other’s body, even though that was impossible. Each touch to sweaty skin produced a shiver, each muttered word dragged out an answering moan.

 

Their first fuck was better than every other fuck they had had with their partner. Arthur couldn’t say it was just because Eames’ ass was tighter than Anna when clenching around him. Eames couldn’t say it was just because he was getting a pleasant change of bottoming – Toby hated to top and had no sense for the role even when he tried. Their bodies just moved together in a way that brought them over the edge before they even realized what was happening, their bodies shuddering and trembling together as they came.

 

They ended up collapsing in a sweaty tangle on the sheets, gasping for breath against one another’s skin. Their heartbeats raced through their veins and the last few droplets of their pleasure dribbled out onto the fabric of the sheets lazily. They realized they were too close – Arthur practically lying on top of Eames – so they shuffled apart tiredly, though they both remained sprawled on the bed. Their limbs were still shaking with fading echoes of pleasure and Eames was thankful he was already in his own bed.

 

“Arthur?” Eames murmured quietly, afraid to disturb the comfortably lazy atmosphere that had fallen around them. Arthur grunted to indicate that he was listening, shoulder blades still moving quickly up and down with his breath. Eames bit his lip. He shouldn’t be nervous because they hadn’t fumbled or been nervous yet. The point of cheating was to seek pleasure from a willing partner without manoeuvring around awkward relationship expectations. But he _was_ nervous, because he didn’t want to screw this up and cause it to end.

 

“What is it, Eames?” Arthur prompted when Eames didn’t speak. Eames took comfort in the fact that Arthur sounded a little nervous as well.

 

“Can I fuck you?” Eames questioned quickly. He was still on his stomach, having only slid down from his hands and knees after Arthur had finished fucking him. But even though his face was already mostly hidden by his pillow, he closed his eyes to avoid Arthur’s no-doubt angry expression.

 

Instead of anger, Eames received a breathless chuckle. This startled him because he had rarely even heard the Point Man laugh before; he wasn’t sure Arthur _could_ laugh. And yet _this_ was what he was laughing at? “Now?”

 

Eames swallowed. Both of their bodies were slowly calming down but there were still small, intermittent tremors that moved through their bodies. It would be a while before either of them was up for another fuck. Still, the air was calm and neither of their flights left until the following afternoon. They had the time and Arthur’s first time wasn’t something to be rushed. Not that Eames would say this aloud, because they shouldn’t talk like that. “Yeah.”

 

Arthur shook his head, black hair long since broken free of its gel and fanning out. “Next time,” Arthur promised as he pulled himself off the bed and began searching for his scattered clothes. The mere assumption that there would be a next time sent a white hot flash of desire through both of their bodies, but they were still too exhausted to act on it. It didn’t really matter because they knew there would be a next time. They both wanted a goodnight kiss but neither of them was willing to act upon this. It didn’t seem to suit this odd situation they had developed, so Arthur dressed and left for his own hotel room without another word.

 

#

 

It was the first time they actually planned and scheduled a rendezvous because it was Arthur’s first time. Arthur was nervous even though he wouldn’t admit it and Eames didn’t want to rush things and screw it up. It was also the first time they planned to have sex when they wouldn’t be almost immediately returning to their partners. Normally they waited until the night before they were headed home after a job, or met in some frenzy when Anna or Toby cancelled. But now the job was over and Arthur and Eames had booked their flights for three days later. After all, when you were gone for weeks at a time for work, what were a few extra days?

 

Eames knocked on Arthur’s door and they were both naked shortly after, still no ceremony for the removal of their clothes. Their kissing was still eager and rushed, like this was a dream that might slip from their grasp if they paused. They had become intimately acquainted with one another’s bodies, learning the dips and rises of skin that made them unique and caused exhilarating shivers of pleasure. Their lips and tongues met like long lost lovers, dancing as though they had never stopped, never been apart.

 

Eames, despite allowing Arthur to lead during their previous encounter, took control this time. He pressed Arthur down against the sheets on his back, kneeling between Arthur’s spread legs. Last time the position had been ideal for a casual fuck, Eames on his hands and knees and Arthur driving in from behind. It had been enjoyable certainly and they would have no issues with returning to the previously used position at a later time. But Eames wanted to see Arthur’s face for this to make sure he was aware of any pain the other man was experiencing; he knew Arthur would be too stubborn to vocalize it himself.

 

Arthur’s legs locked around Eames’ own, framing him, but it wasn’t a planned move. His body was automatically trying to protect itself, to lock his legs closed so that Eames could not get at him. But he had promised and he still hated owing Eames anything so he forced himself to relax as Eames kissed his thigh and reached for the lube.

 

The preparation hurt. The girth of each additional finger had him wincing and biting his lip to keep quiet. It only hurt more when Eames scissored his fingers, sending a sharp, throbbing pain up Arthur’s spine. It got better with time, and with copious amounts of lube – the cleaning staff would hate them – but the first addition or movement had him tensing up again, breath coming in short gasps.

 

He knew Eames was doing his best to make this work and he also knew that Eames was worried about him. Long moments would pass where they would just lie still and watch each other, Eames’ fingers buried in Arthur without movement. The gazes were too soft, the touches and kisses too tender. Their position was too intimate – any other position would be more acceptable than missionary. With every other position – all of which they would use at one point or another – there was some semblance of distance between their bodies. But with missionary their gazes held and their skin stuck together. It definitely wasn’t suitable for an unattached fuck, but neither of them cared right then.

 

Arthur couldn’t quite hold back his sob when Eames finally pressed in, his body stretching painfully to accommodate the other man. He wondered how Toby managed and although that gave him a flash of determination, the thought also made him mad; he didn’t want to think about Toby. So he closed his eyes and tried to breathe, wondering why his lungs were so against oxygen all of a sudden.

 

“Shh, darling,” Eames’ voice startled Arthur enough to cause him to open his eyes again. He felt a thumb brush against his bottom lip, and only then did he taste the coppery tang of blood. Arthur hadn’t realized how hard he had been biting his bottom lip until Eames intervened, leaning forward to kiss away the small trail of blood that was making his chin itch.

 

Arthur opened his mouth to say something distant, like _Get on with it_ , or _That’s it?_ Or maybe even something as embarrassing but necessary as _I’m okay._ But all that came out was a pathetic little whine that broke off in the back of his throat and Arthur focused on brushing away a few traitorous tears before his cheeks could blush any redder. “It hurts,” he stated as though he needed to explain himself. Was it always supposed to hurt like this the first time?

 

“I promise it’ll get better,” Eames caressed Arthur’s stomach with the pads of his fingers. It wasn’t meant to be arousing; it was supposed to be soothing. Arthur closed his eyes again because he didn’t want to see that it was Eames touching him like that while filling him to the hilt. But he could still smell Eames, a faded cologne and musk he had come to associate with the Forger. He nodded for Eames to start moving because he didn’t want to appear weak – if Toby could do it then Arthur certainly could, thank you very much – but he kept his eyes closed to take in that comforting scent and the relaxing feel of fingers on his skin.

 

Eames didn’t lie. It did get better. It got _substantially_ better. The first few thrusts consumed Arthur with a burning pain that was near-blinding. He wanted to tell Eames to go faster, feeling as though the slowness of each thrust was purposefully to make him break; but he knew speed was not an asset at the moment and focused on relaxing his body.

 

And then... _Oh god, there_. Eames’ cock pressed in deep, hot and heavy and claiming, and thrust against a sensitive bundle of nerves Arthur hadn’t even known existed. The pain quickly melted away to overwhelming pleasure, which was a relief because it meant it didn’t hurt when Arthur arched up to fuck himself against each of Eames’ brutal thrusts, back protesting but the rest of his body refusing to take heed.

 

Once he actually got into it, they didn’t last long. Eames was whispering things into his ear and Arthur was moaning in response, too focused on taking Eames deeper each time to pay much attention to proper word choice. Arthur’s knees were framing Eames’ hips, which were snapping forward sharply. Eames’ chest was plastered to Arthur’s own and Eames was breathing hard against Arthur’s neck, moist breath tarnished with filthy words.

 

Eames’ hand was around Arthur’s cock but the angle wasn’t right. The grip was too tight and each stroke was almost painfully jerky, Eames too wrapped up in his building pleasure to really do it right. Arthur batted his hand away and took a hold of his own leaking length, tugging the way he liked as he angled his hips up to take Eames in deeper. “C’mon, c’mon, _please Eames_.” They were the first words Arthur spoke during the encounter and it seemed to be enough to send them both careening over the edge.

 

Both of their bodies spasmed, shoving jerkily against one another in search of more friction as they came. Arthur was the first to calm, a hot sticky mess coating his and Eames’ stomachs where they were pressed together. He attempted to breathe normally as Eames collapsed on top of him, thrusting into him shallowly a few more times before he was finally spent, his seed deposited and buried.

 

“Good?” Eames questioned tiredly, lips brushing against Arthur’s sweaty skin.

 

Arthur smiled as he brushed some hair out of his face. “You know it was,” he admitted, his rough voice and trembling body speaking for itself. “Now get out of here, I need to sleep.”

 

Eames grumbled into the pillow, wiggled, and fell still again. “Can’t I stay here just for tonight?”

 

“No,” Arthur pushed Eames away slightly. He still felt empty when his body spasmed and he didn’t feel Eames’ thick length filling him. He still smelt Eames’ unique scent – would _continue_ smelling of it until he showered – and could still remember the long gazes and soft touches. He had to remember what this was, and that Anna was waiting for him and Toby was waiting for Eames.

 

“Breakfast tomorrow?” Eames offered, sitting up bleary-eyed on the bed. Arthur couldn’t blame the other man. It was clear Eames was half asleep and not thinking properly. And after committing such an intimate act – Arthur’s first time, not to mention in missionary position – it was understandable that boundaries were getting a little blurred.

 

But it was time to set things straight before things turned messy. “No.”

 

Eames blinked at him for a long moment, as though confused. And then clarity returned. “Right, sorry. Silly thought.”

 

Eames looked a little embarrassed by his momentary mistake so Arthur did his best to give a reassuring smile. “It’s alright.”

 

Arthur watched as Eames began moving around the room pulling on his clothes. While he watched, Arthur moved over to the unspoiled side of the bed and slipped under the covers. His body ached but in a pleasant way, the way it did after a successful afternoon of exercise. “Sleep well, Arthur,” Eames gave him a friendly smile and a slightly awkward wave in the doorframe of the room.

 

“Yeah, you too,” Arthur returned, eyes already slipping closed. He trusted Eames enough to make sure the door was closed and locked behind him. He heard the door close and muffled footsteps heading down the hall towards the elevator and then he was asleep.

 

Even though their flights had been scheduled for three days later, Eames must have changed his ticket. When Arthur inquired at the front desk the next afternoon he was informed that a Mr. Monroe had checked out earlier that morning. Arthur thanked the receptionist and headed to an early dinner alone, still rather accustomed to eating in his own company. He thought of changing his ticket as well but he couldn’t afford to return home and have Anna wondering why he had a temporary limp in his otherwise perfect gait.

 

#

 

There were many unspoken rules structuring their mutual exchange.

 

No talk of personal matters – except the brief, unobtrusive mentioning of Anna and Toby since Arthur and Eames were both terribly addicted to the thrill of fear at the thought of getting caught that fuelled their adrenaline and arousal.

 

No interference with home life.

 

No cuddling.

 

No acknowledgement of their rendezvous at work.

 

No purposefully scheduling a tryst.

 

No sleeping over.

 

No visible marks.

 

But there were also many days that passed where they would break a rule as though it had only been created to be broken.

 

#

 

Both of them had always used a condom – Arthur with Anna to be safe and because they didn’t want a child, and Eames with Toby just to be safe. But Arthur and Eames never used a condom with each other. They knew it was supposed to be the other way around, that they were supposed to be comfortable having sex without a condom with their long-term partner but be more cautious when they were cheating. But they both knew the other was clean from using the dream device for work, and they couldn’t get enough of the sensation of the other’s come on and in them.

 

It was a particularly unkind guilty pleasure for them to get filled with the other’s come before heading home to visit their unaware partner.

 

#

 

Work didn’t change. Arthur and Eames both hated the way the other handled their work and they both felt defensive enough around the other to avoid changing their methods. A part of them hated the idea of changing to suit someone else, feeling like they were bending to the other’s unspoken will. But another part of them just hated the thought that the other might _think_ they were changing to suit them, rather than just showing another side of their methods. They were there to work, not to make the other happy.

 

There were no mentions of their rendezvous, and no hints towards the possibility. There were no sidelong glances, no soft spoken words, no worrying glances. They were both grown men and knew how to take care of themselves; there was a reason they didn’t bring their partners along with them when they started a new job. They didn’t need the fussing that would turn to concern that would turn into an argument.

 

There was also no sex on the job. They were both free to go out and pick up someone else at some bar if the desire struck them, but they didn’t have sex with each other. Not that either of them had sex with anyone else either, when you got right down to it. They were both too dedicated to doing a proper job to get distracted, and they both knew how dangerous the dreamscape could be if you didn’t prepare.

 

There didn’t seem to be much incentive to have sex during a job anyway. Once – just once – they had broken the rule and fucked on a job. It was a slow job, one that had them balancing pencils on their finger and refreshing the internet browser repeated to see if they had received a new email. Dom and Mal had disappeared to do some reconnaissance on their mark, trying to rework their schedule.

 

Eames had pulled Arthur into the small bathroom in the basement they were set up in, moving him bodily into one of the two cubicles in case Dom and Mal returned in a hurry. At first it had been thrilling fucking in a semi-public washroom where there was a slight chance of them getting caught. The metal frame of the cubicle rattled and the toilet paper holder dug into Arthur’s hip as he was fucked against the wall. But then they realized that they should be working, and that it was going to be another two weeks at least before they were headed home to visit their partners.

 

Their dirty talk turned to insults and accusations related to work – which really wasn’t arousing to anyone. Their bodies continued to move but the insistent sense of having to rush faded away. The movements were mechanical and although they both came, their completion was like a disappointing swell rather than a consuming wave crashing over them.

 

After that, even if they weren’t workaholic professionals – which they were – they wouldn’t have bothered attempting to fuck at work again.

 

#

 

They were in Los Angeles of all places, in a pulsing club, just Arthur and Eames. If you were looking for someone to blame you could probably blame Anna this time. She had made Arthur promise to take her out to a club, insisting that she wanted to get out and loosen up a little bit. This seemed rather odd to Arthur since Anna was generally more uptight than he was, and that was saying something. He was momentarily fearful that she might suspect something – suspect he was sleeping with someone else – and wanted to prove she could go out and have fun too.

 

His fear had made him agree, and he let her choose the date – the evening he returned home after a job – and the place – a club in the high end section of downtown. Though when you were going to a club like this it didn’t matter how expensive the cars parked out front were; everyone was there looking for the same type of fun. He figured he would meet her at the club, buy her a few drinks, dance her around the floor, take her to bed, and then finally catch up on some much needed sleep.

 

Arthur wasn’t planning on Eames flying into LA with him, rather than to New Orleans; Eames explained that Toby wasn’t expecting him home for another two days and that he was in the mood for a bit of sightseeing. This would have been fine except that Eames seemed keen on sticking by Arthur’s side. Arthur didn’t bother complaining because he figured it’d be safe; Anna was coming and Eames wasn’t going to interfere. They’d just spend a night the way they were supposed to – as team members and reluctant friends.

 

The second issue arose after Arthur and Eames were already in the club, drinks in hand. Arthur’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to read the incoming text message. _Meeting running late. Will be at least another hour. Have fun with Eames until I get there, and don’t get too drunk without me! – Anna_. Arthur closed his eyes and tried not to curse aloud, though it wouldn’t matter if he did – the music was too loud for him to be heard anyway.

 

“What’s that?” Eames plucked the phone from his hand, reading the text like the obnoxiously curious man he was. The loud music – so loud you could barely tease out the lyrics – and the bass controlling their heartbeats was the only sound between them for a minute. And then their eyes met across the table, Eames’ lips curling up slightly before he said “ _Oh._ ”

 

They downed their drinks and Eames tried to shepherd Arthur out onto the dance floor. Arthur was being difficult, shaking his head in annoyance and moving away from the other man. “I’m tired, Eames,” he yelled when Eames continued being persistent, making sure he was heard over the noise of the club, “I wasn’t planning for this.”

 

In a flash Eames was crowding into his personal space, pressing him against the back cushion of the booth. Eames nipped his ear before whispering, “I’ll make sure you don’t have to do any work.”

 

A short time later found them in a back hallway of the club, one that was further beyond the public washrooms that smelt of stale alcohol. They had been lucky enough to find the little hallway that only led to the janitor’s closet; cleaning wouldn’t be done until the club closed so there was only a slight risk of getting caught. It helped that the ceiling lamp over their heads had a burnt out bulb, meaning that they were cast into shadows except for the pale light from the next lamp further down the hall.

 

Eames had Arthur pressed against the wall, Arthur’s arms around Eames’ neck and his legs wound around Eames’ hips. The Forger had Arthur held aloft with his hands holding the underside of Arthur’s thighs and kept Arthur in place by pressing their bodies closer together, Arthur’s back lodged against the wall. The pace was fast and unrelenting, Eames possessing much more energy and drive than the exhausted Point Man – the last job had been harder on Arthur than Eames.

 

All Arthur could do was whine and moan against Eames’ skin, his forehead resting tiredly on the man’s sweaty shoulder. He really didn’t have to do anything else, just like he had been promised; Eames held him in place, supporting him, and drove into him again and again at the perfect angle to hit his prostate on every other thrust. Their bodies were both covered in sweat and musk but they hoped Anna would assume it was just from residing in the club for a prolonged period of time.

 

“I told you that you’d enjoy it,” Eames whispered smugly, nipping his ear again lightly enough to avoid bruising.

 

“In your dreams,” Arthur hissed back, even though it was an obvious bluff.

 

Eames chuckled against the sensitive skin of Arthur’s jaw, causing him to shiver. “You never know.” A shocking thrill of fear passed through him but he refused to check his totem, to entertain the mere thought that he would dream about something like this. Even though he had before, and he probably would again. “Shh, darling,” Eames kissed the corner of his mouth, recapturing his attention. “We’re in reality. You never feel this good in dreams.”

 

The blatant truth in that statement, Eames’ easy declaration that he had dreamt of this, was enough to push Arthur over the edge. He sealed their lips together as he jolted against Eames, searching for more friction. Eames swallowed his shout willingly and sucked his bottom lip, fucking up into him harder. Arthur managed to get a hand over his cock in time to catch all his pearly white come in his palm and keep it off their wrinkled clothing.

 

Eames was groaning into his mouth continuously, breathing hard and short as he searched for his end. Arthur wanted Eames to find his completion but as his body began to calm after coming, his exhaustion returned with a vengeance. “Come for me, Eames,” Arthur murmured against Eames’ lips when their lips separated. “C’mon, fill me. Send me home to Anna with your come dripping out of me…”

 

“ _Fuck_!” Eames cursed loudly and came, pushing Arthur down onto his cock so hard it felt like his balls might just slip in too. They didn’t, of course, but the position helped Arthur take all of Eames’ length into him as the other man pumped him full of his seed.

 

When Eames was spent his arms were shaking and Arthur squirmed until the man set him back down on his feet. They remained standing close together for another minute, shaking and breathing hard. Their foreheads were pressed together and their hands remained on the other’s skin, searching for support and balance as they came back to reality. Finally, when Arthur thought he might be able to move without collapsing he leaned over and snatched his pants up from the dirty floor, pulling them back on with a grimace. “How do I look?” he asked Eames when he was finished.

 

“Gorgeous,” Eames smiled. One of his hands was still resting on the wall for support as his breathing calmed.

 

“Fuck you, that’s not what I meant,” Arthur snapped. He was exhausted and slightly sore and he didn’t need this right now.

 

Eames looked at him fully, inspecting him critically. Then he shrugged almost apologetically. “It looks like you just got fucked against a wall.”

 

“Shit,” he wiped a hand across his face, grimacing again when he noticed some hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His phone vibrated in his pocket again and he pulled it out. _I’m here. Where are you? –Anna_. “ _Shit_!” Arthur said again, this time with more desperation in his voice. The thought of getting caught was thrilling. _Actually_ getting caught was not, especially when he was this tired. “Anna’s here.”

 

“How do I look?”

 

Arthur glanced over Eames for a moment. “A little less debauched than me.”

 

“Okay,” Eames nodded as though they were discussing plans for a new job. He somehow managed to look serious and calm even as he was busy tucking his softening cock back into his pants. “Okay, you go to the washroom and get cleaned up. I’ll go run interference on Anna until you can pass as a sweaty club-goer.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur agreed; they didn’t have many other options. Eames pressed one final kiss to Arthur’s lips, which Arthur leaned away from tiredly. Then Eames disappeared back towards the main area of the club while Arthur headed for the washroom. He wiped the proof of Eames’ pleasure from between his legs with some cheap toilet paper and then worked on trying to smooth a few of the wrinkles from his clothes. He flattened his hair and wiped his face clean with some cold water, helping his flush fade quicker. His lips were still swollen from kisses but he hoped the club would be dark enough that Anna wouldn’t notice.

 

When he ventured back out into the throng of dancers he found that Eames had already treated Anna to a drink. They were swaying back and forth playfully in a corner of the dance floor where the crowd was thinner. Anna looked happy. Eames looked happy, but Arthur could see the tense lines of the man’s shoulder blades and back. For a moment Arthur just wanted to slip out a back door and call a taxi; he didn’t have the energy to deal with this. But he wasn’t a coward and if Eames could do this, so could he.

 

Arthur walked over and kissed Anna on the cheek. She smiled and slid into his arms, sealing their lips together in greeting. Arthur feared he would taste like Eames – some little hint of the man’s natural taste that would make Anna pull away and realize everything. But she just kept kissing him and then pulled away enough to take another sip of her drink, swaying again. Eames was standing tensely beside them, but he didn’t relax when Anna remained unaware.

 

Eames excused himself politely, leaving Arthur alone in the club with Anna – the way it was supposed to be, Arthur reminded himself. Arthur and Anna danced together for a while, shared another drink, and then went home. Arthur felt terrible but his body was still exhausted from his fuck with Eames, so when they got home he showered and then fell asleep immediately. Anna didn’t complain, assuming it was just from work. Arthur made it up to her the next morning but he still felt guilty. Like he had been faithful to the wrong person.

 

#

 

Eames heard the quiet knock at his hotel room door and pulled himself out of bed, pulling the door open slowly. When he saw who was standing there he blinked blurrily in confusion. “Arthur, what are you doing here?”

 

Arthur’s gaze flickered to Eames’ face and then further into the room where Toby was visible and asleep in the bed. Arthur shouldn’t be there because this wasn’t right after some job; Eames and Toby were on vacation. Arthur was interfering. “I’m sorry, I’m intruding. I shouldn’t have come.”

 

“It’s fine,” Eames waved him off, looking more awake, “He was tired from the flight so we were just sleeping.” Eames looked uncomfortable – the way you feel when two very different aspects of your life careen into each other without your consent – but he could probably also read the tension in Arthur’s face. “What’s wrong?”

 

Arthur took a deep breath, falling back into the role of the Point Man to handle this without doing something embarrassing like cry. “Did you hear about Mal?”

 

“No…” Eames answered slowly; the small smile that had appeared at Arthur’s arrival was quickly fading. “What happened?”

 

There was no easy way to say the words, no miraculous combination of words that would make it hurt less. And as soon as you said the words…that made it true… “She’s dead.”

 

They stared at each other for a long moment. The hotel was quiet around them with the late hour. “Hang on a moment,” Eames whispered and let the door close quietly. A moment later he was stepping out into the hallway to join Arthur, this time with a rumpled shirt on and his key card in hand. The door clicked shut decisively behind him and their eyes met again. “The bar or your room?” Eames asked softly.

 

“There’s alcohol in my room,” Arthur offered, trying not to feel too terrible about literally stealing Eames from Toby’s bed. There was only so much guilt and pain you could feel at one time and he was already too filled with grief over Mal so Toby fell to the back of his mind.

 

They shared some scotch and Arthur told Eames everything he knew about the situation. Then they shared another scotch and reminisced about Mal and all the wonderful times they had had together. By the third scotch they were inappropriately close on the couch and they both set their glasses down at the same time. “I don’t want to think right now,” Arthur murmured, voice slurred but his mind kept sharp with pain, “I just want to feel you.”

 

They moved to the bed and fucked on their sides, Eames pressing into Arthur with slow, long strokes. It was difficult to figure out the angle at first, Eames having to rely only on his hips’ movement rather than the rest of his body since he was spooning Arthur from behind. Eventually they got Arthur’s leg hoisted in the air, Eames’ steady grip helping support his thigh and they found the right angle to have Arthur moaning into the pillow.

 

The climax was lacklustre, their pleasure dampened by internal pain. Their bodies shuddered through their release which almost seemed to spill out of them accidentally, like they had forgotten the reason for this coupling. They were both quiet as they came, the only sound escaping being one sad little sob that might have been due to pleasure and might not have been. Eames pulled out but didn’t pull away, and they silently decided that this was a situation that deserved a few broken rules.

 

Their bodies were lethargic after their release and they faded in and out of consciousness. The hotel’s digital clock showed them the time in blaring red numbers so they knew they weren’t asleep long. But the clock did appear to skip a few minutes here and there. One moment declared 3:48am, and the next was 3:59am. Arthur shifted in Eames’ arms, stretching out his aching body. “Eames, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

 

“A job?” Eames asked, sounding dozy and more asleep than Arthur.

 

“No,” Arthur admitted, surprising them both. “At least, not right now. They think Dom did it so he’s running.”

 

“You’re going with him?”

 

“He can’t be alone right now.”

 

“Will you visit?” It was the wrong thing to say. Eames knew it the moment the words left his lips. But he couldn’t take it back and tried not to tense up too much as he waited for Arthur’s response.

 

“I’ll come stateside when it’s safe…” Arthur tensed up in Eames’ arms, like he had just remembered something important. “To visit Anna,” he finished.

 

Eames knew he should stay quiet, should nod his head in understanding. But they had already broken other rules tonight, what was one more? “What about me?”

 

Arthur sighed. “I can’t interfere.”

 

Eames buried his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck, breathing in his natural scent mixed with faded shampoo. “I want you to.” The silence between them was tense and expectant, but neither of them said anything more. Eventually they glanced at the clock and realized they were dangerously close to breaking the rule about sleeping over. “Can I use your shower?”

 

“Sure,” Arthur nodded and tried not to shiver with loss when Eames pulled away and disappeared from the bed. He listened to the shower start up and even though he considered joining Eames in the shower, he remained where he was. They had broken enough rules for one day, despite the circumstances. Eames borrowed a towel and slid back into his sleep clothes to return to his room, and it was surprisingly disappointing knowing Arthur’s scent had faded from his skin. Eames wasn’t expecting Arthur to say anything more, and Arthur didn’t know what to say. But when he heard footsteps by the front door he sat up in bed. “Eames.”

 

“Yeah?” Eames paused, watching him across the large hotel room.

 

“When it’s safe,” Arthur promised.

 

Eames nodded, understanding, and left to return to his own room.

  
#

 

“I missed you,” Arthur confessed between kisses. And it was true. He had missed Eames’ body, but he had also missed the man’s company. He hadn’t been expecting it, especially since he had had Dom for company. But Dom had been depressing. You couldn’t hold it against the man – he had just lost his wife – but he wasn’t good company. Arthur had wanted someone else to talk to, and unfortunately Eames was the one he kept thinking of, rather than Anna.

 

It was actually a rather stupid desire since they rarely spoke of anything important when together anyway, not to mention how irritated Arthur always became with Eames while they were working. Perhaps he missed Eames because it had been over half a year since they had seen each other or spoken; he had forgotten how annoying the man could be. Either way, in this moment Eames was exactly what he wanted right now and he wasn’t annoyed in the slightest.

 

“Oh fuck, you have no idea how much I missed you,” Eames returned earnestly, pressing their lips together again and again in a dizzying string of kisses.

 

Eames had Arthur seated on the kitchen counter of Toby’s bungalow. Arthur’s legs were around Eames’ hips, trapping him and keeping him close, and Arthur’s head was bent down to cross the short distance between their mouths. Eames was pressing himself against the crotch of Arthur’s pants, both of them hardening slowly while their minds were focused on kissing.

 

Arthur had finally come stateside when it was safe and it was Eames he called first. Anna had actually traveled with him for two months before returning to LA, under the assumption that Arthur was working on an important business deal rather than trying to keep his friend from committing suicide. Arthur had informed her that he could finally come home for a month but she wasn’t expecting him for another week. Sometimes he couldn’t understand how someone could be so cutthroat and sharp at work and yet be so trusting and unassuming with their home life, but Arthur genuinely loved Anna for having faith in him and giving him the space he needed.

 

Eames nipped Arthur’s lower lip hard and then began skimming his lips across the sensitive skin of the Point Man’s jaw and neck. Arthur took a deep breath and dragged in the scent of Eames’ shampoo when he buried his nose in Eames’ hair. He gave a wanton moan when Eames nuzzled his neck and then sucked, using teeth and lips interchangeably. “Eames…” he began with a warning tone, worried about getting marked. But then Eames moved to a new inch of Arthur’s neck, kissing and sucking again. His hand slithered between Arthur’s thighs to press against the growing bulge in his pants and Arthur moaned again, forgetting what he was planning to complain about.

 

The sound of keys in the front door's lock startled them and they jolted apart immediately, both of them whining quietly at the loss of contact. "Fuck," Eames whispered when he saw that he had left a bruising mark on Arthur's neck.

 

When Arthur had arrived on Eames’ front porch, Eames had informed him that Toby was out running errands and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. But obviously he had been wrong. Arthur was suddenly furious. He was angry that they were in this situation, that they had been so careless. But he was also livid with Toby for ruining their reunion, for forcing them to part before they had truly reconnected. "Why did you even invite me over?" Arthur hissed, touching a hand to his neck to feel the tender skin there as he slid off the counter.

 

"Why did you come?" Eames shot back, looking just as upset.

 

Neither of them gave an explanation because neither of them wanted to admit anything.

 

Arthur tried to think of some way to get out of this situation, wondering how they could cover up the bruise on his neck. "Hit me."

 

"I'm not hitting you," Eames glared, looking angry at the suggestion.

 

"Why the fuck not?"

 

Eames hesitated and then punched Arthur in the face, not as hard as he could have but hard enough to cause damage. Arthur blinked away a few stray tears of pain and moved his hand to his face to touch his bleeding split lip just as Toby walked in with groceries. "You're an asshole," Arthur growled.

 

Feeling flustered with adrenaline and arousal at nearly having gotten caught, Eames bared his teeth. "You're a prick. It was stupid of me to invite you over."

 

“No, it was stupid of me to accept,” Arthur retaliated loudly. He brushed by Eames, who was crowding him close to the counter as though they had just gotten into a heated argument, not a heated coupling. “Don’t bother calling again,” he added as he headed for the door. “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance,” he offered civilly to Toby before slipping on his shoes and leaving. He tried not to think too hard on the fact that that he and Eames would have had a wonderful reunion if Toby had just spent an extra fifteen minutes stuck in traffic.

 

Arthur left and, shortly after, Eames shrugged off Toby's calming embrace. Eames said he needed some air to cool off and grabbed his keys from the kitchen table. Five minutes later he found Arthur parked at a nearby park, waiting for him. Both of them were already flushed and hard, and their kisses were tainted by the coppery tang of blood from Arthur’s lip. Eames fucked Arthur in the backseat of Arthur's rental car to ensure his own didn't smell of sex when he drove home later that day.

 

#

 

Arthur and Eames were both still together with their respective partners but the relationships were growing more strained. Arthur was away for longer and longer periods of time worrying over Dom, wondering if his friend, the Architect turned Extractor, would ever be the same again. Arthur understood love and he understood loss but he had never seen someone become such a shell of their former self.

 

They took jobs near constantly, and the jobs became more and more dangerous so Arthur couldn’t risk inviting Anna to join him on a vacation. Anna threw herself into her work and, if Arthur wasn’t mistaken, took up a lover. The knowledge stung but it was also a relief. It meant that he could go back and visit Anna in LA and they could keep playing “House”, but he wouldn’t feel guilty when he left again. Anna was his partner in name alone now, but he needed it that way. He worried Eames would no longer be interested if he knew he wasn’t stealing Arthur away from someone else momentarily.

 

Eames had a different problem. Toby wanted to get married and as shitty of a boyfriend as Eames had been, he wasn’t going to cheat on his husband. He avoided the topic like the plague because he really didn’t have a good reason against the idea, and whenever Toby cornered him the ‘talk’ turned into a fight. Eventually they agreed not to get married, though the ‘agreement’ was more of a defeat; they had both grown used to the other’s company and didn’t want to lose something so familiar entirely. And even though Eames would never say so aloud, he worried Arthur would lose interest if he was the only one cheating; Arthur would feel too guilty and selfish, even if it was making him happy.

 

Eames stayed with Toby but after a few months without work Eames went a little stir crazy. Arthur hadn’t been contacting him for any jobs lately, and Eames began worrying that something had gone wrong. The Forger took a few jobs with other teams but when he took a particular liking to Mombasa and met a brilliant Chemist by the name of Yusuf, he began staying away from New Orleans for longer periods of time. Whether Toby believed Eames or not when he said he was working didn’t really matter because their relationship wasn’t going to get any worse; the next step was breaking up and neither of them were quite ready for that yet.

 

When Arthur finally called with a job offer Eames couldn’t say no. Arthur warned him that it would be dangerous, trying to keep him away, but that just made Eames more determined to help out. He got his first glimpse of Dom Cobb since Mal had died and it truly terrified him. They did the job, just the three of them, and Mal’s missing presence was practically tangible. It was that sickening drop of your stomach when you realized you left your stovetop on, doubled with the infuriating realization that you couldn’t do anything about it.

 

They got the job done though, and although Dom insisted on flying out of the country immediately in search of more work, both Arthur and Eames refused. So Dom wandered away to his room with a cell phone to search for more work while both Arthur and Eames stood watching him disappear, wondering if they should forcefully remove the gun they knew was on the Extractor’s hip. But Dom was a grown man and there was only so much they could do.

 

Arthur and Eames were exhausted but they both made it back to Eames’ room. Arthur fucked Eames over the little kitchenette counter – reminiscent of what would have happened if Toby had arrived fifteen minutes later with the groceries. They collapsed onto the bed once they were finished, deciding to clean up later. Eames was expecting them to lie there for a few minutes to catch their breath before Arthur dragged himself off the sheets to head back to his own room.

 

Eames was surprised when he felt fingers tracing over his skin softly and, taking this as a form of permission, began exploring Arthur’s skin with his own fingers. Once they had both calmed down fully Arthur surprised Eames again by crawling down the bed and sucking him to full hardness a second time, relentless with his determination and yet achingly tender with the touch of his lips and tongue.

 

They fucked again, slower this time, relishing each movement, touch and look. Arthur rode Eames with skilled movements, rotating his hips like a pro. He would sit down fully each time, Eames as deep as possible inside Arthur with his balls pressed against the warm curve of his ass. Arthur had his fingers splayed across Eames’ chest, his nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he thrust down hard. Eames had his hands on Arthur’s hips, aiding his movements as he fucked up to fill Arthur again and again. It took them a long time for the pleasure to build after their first climax but they were still shivering with it and savouring the slow pace.

 

Their second orgasm left them reeling. Arthur’s essence shot across Eames’ lower stomach, branding, and Eames filled Arthur’s ass up, hot and sticky even as it slipped out after Eames had pulled his softening cock away. Arthur physically collapsed on top of Eames, who held the other man close as they struggled weakly for oxygen. Neither of them quite knew what was happening, their senses muddled and taking a long time to become functional again. They hadn’t fucked like that before – twice in one go – but it had felt right after such a long time apart.

 

Hesitant, Eames nuzzled Arthur’s jaw with his nose, trying to discern what rules he was allowed to break that night. Arthur yawned and rolled off him, but only enough to mould himself to the shape of Eames’ side under the blankets. Eames leaned down for a kiss, which Arthur met easily. The kiss was languid and gentle, their bodies exhausted after the job and sex, and there wasn’t the same sharp urgency that there normally was when their lips locked.

 

They were both half asleep when they broke the kiss, their lips pressing together more than moving. “Why didn’t you call me in for a job earlier?” Eames asked quietly. “It worries me that you’ve been alone with Dom like that for so long.”

 

Arthur blinked his eyes open to look at him, and then allowed them to close again. Eames watched as dark lashes dusted Arthur’s pale cheeks. “The jobs were too dangerous.”

 

“For me?” Eames scoffed, ready to argue.

 

“For me to drag you into it,” Arthur clarified, remaining close despite the slight anger in Eames’ tone.

 

“I would have come to help you,” Eames grumbled, brushing his lips over Arthur’s temple. “I would have rather come to help you than leave you to a dangerous job alone with Dom.”

 

“I know,” Arthur yawned again, laughing quietly as if to himself. “That’s the problem.”

 

“Call me for the next job,” Eames requested, wrapping an arm around Arthur to hold his body closer against him.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Arthur.”

 

“Eames.”

 

Eames sighed in frustration and pressed their lips together again. It was odd how, even when it was Arthur he was having an argument with, it was still Arthur’s lips that calmed him. Eames could understand Arthur’s mindset; he would refuse to call Arthur into a dangerous situation as well, but it was still aggravating. He would need to spend more time getting closer to Dom again so that the Extractor would call Eames in when it was necessary, even if Arthur would not.

 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Arthur asked wearily, already more than halfway asleep with his face nestled against the crook of Eames’ neck.

 

Eames felt Arthur’s body expanding and contracting with his breathing, and he could feel the man’s heartbeat where their skin touched. “Yeah,” he said tentatively, “Of course.”

 

“You’re still a clown no one will ever take seriously,” Arthur accused, though his tone was not biting and his words ghosted over Eames’ skin without more than a light sting.

 

“And you’re still a prissy stick in the mud,” Eames retaliated, using a similar tone.

 

Both of their accusations were almost affectionate, like they had grown fond of these traits; they were keeping up appearances more than anything else. Eames didn’t explain that he acted like a clown because he was scared no one would listen if he did try to speak seriously. Arthur didn’t say that he acted so professional because he was terrified of one of his co-workers getting hurt. It didn’t matter in that moment because they were both exhausted, comfortable and warm.

 

They were asleep in seconds and when they woke up the next morning, they parted with a kiss. 

 

#

 

When Arthur opened the door, Eames was already crying. “Look, I know we’re not supposed to act like this but I—”

 

“Come in.”

 

“I just really need someone to talk to right now and I didn’t want to talk to Toby. I just wanted to talk to you and—”

 

“Eames.”

 

Eames sniffled, ready to be yelled at and shooed away. “Yeah?”

 

“I said come in.” Arthur wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry. He just looked worried.

 

Even though they had been fucking for years, sharing personal space many times, Eames felt like an intruder when he slunk into Arthur’s room. They hadn’t just gotten off a job. They hadn’t seen each other in two months since their last job which, as Eames had suspected, Dom had called him in on rather than Arthur contacting him. He followed Arthur into the hotel room, just as bland and unoriginal as his own, and shook his head when Arthur offered him a drink.

 

They ended up on the couch sitting side by side with their shoulders and thighs brushing but nothing else. For the first time since this began, they were in one another’s personal space and sex was not even a thought. Eames felt weak and pathetic, crying harder with his frustration at himself; Arthur had never broken down like this because Arthur was strong, and they weren’t supposed to do this together. This was for boyfriends and partners and spouses.

 

But Arthur, normally cursed with poor social skills, placed a warm hand on Eames’ knee, and in that moment Arthur was a genius. It felt perfect and comforting, silently telling him that Arthur didn’t mind taking on this role, and didn’t judge him for his moment of weakness. Eames cried harder and placed his hand on top of Arthur’s, lacing their fingers together. “My grandmother died.”

 

Arthur looked shocked but he recovered quickly. “I didn’t know you had family left.”

 

“I didn’t want anyone to know; I wanted her to be safe,” Eames explained, sniffling and grimacing when he realized how disgusting he probably looked in that moment. Arthur grabbed a tissue box and set it on the coffee table in front of them without batting an eyelash, returning his hand to Eames’ knee and hold. “But people get old no matter how safe they are.”

 

They were both silent for a few minutes as Eames cried but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Then Arthur held Eames’ hand a little tighter and looked over to hold his gaze strongly. “I am sorry.”

 

The wording was awkward, but Arthur’s sincerity was powerful. Eames glanced away, feeling choked up and embarrassed. “What for? It’s not your fault people grow old.”

 

“I’m sorry that you are suffering,” Arthur clarified, using his free hand to touch Eames’ unshaved jaw. Eames hadn’t shaved since he had heard the news two days ago, since he had tracked Arthur down and booked the earliest flight. He met those brown eyes again and felt his heart flutter weakly. “And I am sorry for your loss.”

 

“She raised me after my parents died.” Eames wasn’t sure where the words came from; he had never told anyone about his family before, not even Toby – who certainly would be no threat to his personal security like everyone in illegal dream work. “After my father killed my mother and then himself,” he clarified, finding it hard to swallow. “I knew illegal dream work was dangerous so when I started getting involved I ran away. I should have gone back…” he whispered, a million regrets crawling up his throat like vomit. Or maybe that _was_ vomit. Eames swallowed hard again.

 

“You did what you thought was right,” Arthur reminded him, stroking Eames’ cheek with his free thumb. “You kept her safe so that she could live a full life.”

 

“But I probably broke her heart,” Eames cried anew, “And I never said thank you. She’s the only family I can even remember properly.” He chuckled humourlessly as memories began to resurface. “She may have shoved one too many scones in my mouth and insisted that liking guys was a phase but she did her best. I loved her.”

 

“I’m sure she knew.” The words were a small comfort, because there was no proof to support the assumption that Eames’ grandmother knew he ran away to protect her. But it was all Arthur could say in the situation and Eames appreciated the attempt. Eames continued to cry until his head was pounding and his eyes stung. He gave an exhausted sigh when the tears finally stopped flowing; he felt like he should cry forever, felt bad for stopping as though he was already over it, but his body was too tired to continue. “Would you like to move to the bed?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

 

Eames leaned into Arthur’s palm, which was now wet with salty tears. “I don’t feel like sex right now,” he admitted quietly, worried Arthur was looking for something he couldn’t offer right then.

 

But Arthur rolled his eyes and kissed him softly, the light pressure of lips chaste. “I wasn’t thinking about sex.” Eames’ cheeks flushed with further embarrassment at his mistaken assumption. “You’re exhausted. You’ll probably fall asleep soon and the bed will be more comfortable.”

 

Arthur’s bed was soft and inviting and Eames nearly fell asleep the moment he was under the sheets. The only thing that kept him awake was the sensation of Arthur carding his fingers through Eames’ hair. It was such a rare thing for him to feel, something Toby seldom thought to do. But this was _Arthur_ petting his hair, which made it feel like something entirely different. The feeling of Arthur’s fingers massaging his scalp made him drowsy but Eames fought the instinct to drift off because he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

 

Arthur was on his back but propped up into a half-seated position against a pile of pillows. Eames was on his side, an arm flung tiredly across Arthur’s stomach to keep him close while his head rested comfortably on the Point Man’s chest. It was comforting having his head rise and fall with Arthur’s even breathing, like a reassurance that everything would continue on and someday everything would feel alright again.

 

He spoke more of his family and growing up, which inevitably touched on school and crushes and jobs. Eventually he ran out of energy and motivation and fell silent, assuming Arthur was politely listening but not all that interested. So he was rather surprised when Arthur began filling the room’s silence with his own tales of troubled family affairs and drama-filled school days. It was the first time they had spoken of anything serious, let alone personal, and it was a true relief to know that the other really was human too.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Arthur asked sometime later when they had fallen silent and Eames was in serious danger of falling asleep. Arthur’s fingers had never ceased petting Eames’ hair.

 

“Yes,” Eames mumbled against Arthur’s shirt, hoping he wasn’t drooling on the fabric.

 

Arthur hesitated. “Why did you want to talk to me and not Toby?”

 

On any other day when Eames hadn’t just lost the last of his family and wasn’t seriously lacking sleep he would have gotten nervous. He would have pulled himself away, given some half-assed excuse and bolted. But that night he just tensed and relaxed again, burying his face away in Arthur’s shirt. “Toby and I aren’t that close anymore,” he admitted.

 

“Oh.”

 

The nerves kicked in then and Eames began to babble. “It’s more habit than anything else to go back to New Orleans now. I’ve been spending a lot of time in Mombasa. Met this Chemist named Yusuf.”

 

“New boyfriend?” Arthur’s voice was deceptively calm, but Eames could hear his heart racing with his ear pressed against Arthur’s chest.

 

“No, no, it’s not like that!” he clarified quickly. He wasn’t sure why he was so anxious to make sure Arthur didn’t think he had found someone else, but his heart began to race too. “He’s just good company.”

 

“Oh,” Arthur said again, though this time the word sounded like a sigh of relief.

 

“How’s uh...” Eames licked his lips, still a little nervous. “How’s Anna?”

 

Arthur’s sigh sounded a little pained this time. “Much the same, I’m afraid.”

 

“Oh.” Eames tried not to sound too interested, or too excited. The thought of Arthur growing distant from Anna shouldn’t make him happy; most of their pleasure came from the thought of doing something forbidden and it wouldn’t exactly be forbidden if they were both unattached. But hearing Arthur say that he and Anna were growing distant filled Eames with the same sense of relief he had felt when he came to accept his own distancing from Toby.

 

Even though they were losing something comforting and familiar, they weren’t losing each other. Even though they had both been terrified of the other losing interest once it stopped becoming some forbidden escapade, they were actually growing closer. Arthur slid down the bed slightly until his head was on the pillows, both of them sprawled out on the mattress. Eames leaned up to place a kiss on Arthur’s jaw before returning his head to Arthur’s chest, nearly asleep now.

 

“I don’t really mind as much as I probably should,” Arthur confessed quietly, body loose and welcoming.

 

Eames hummed his agreement and tightened his hold on Arthur, fading away into a restful sleep.

 

#

 

So what if Arthur picked up the bad habit of pressing his face into the crook of Eames’ sweaty neck and held him closer as their bodies rocked together?

 

So what if they called the other’s name when they came?

 

So what if Eames began saying ‘darling’ and ‘love’ like the words actually meant something?

 

So what if they hesitated a moment too long each time before parting ways, both of them waiting for someone to be brave and say something?

 

#

 

The job went badly. No, scratch that. The job could not have gone worse. Stupid Dom and his stupid fucking Inception! Oh sure, they had succeeded and made it out alive – _barely_! They could have ended up in Limbo. They could have lost their memories and gone mad. They could have ended up dead – the permanent variety. Everyone was traumatized and probably more than a little mentally scarred. And now the team was just splitting apart, Dom headed home to his children while the rest of the team reeled and tried to find some solid ground.

 

When they returned to the hotel Eames shoved Arthur into his room with little ceremony. The door slammed closed with enough force to make the wine glasses on the table jingle. “What the fuck was that Arthur?” Eames bellowed, pinning Arthur against a wall.

 

Their bodies were exhausted from the strain they had been under but Arthur still managed to wiggle an arm free and punch Eames square in the jaw. “Me? What about you?” he snarled as he pushed Eames backwards, pinning him to the opposite wall. They both slammed into the wallpapered drywall hard enough to have their breath knocked out of them momentarily.

 

“You weren’t even going to bring me in on the job!” Eames fought back, tripping Arthur and sending him to the carpet, pinning him there where the Point Man couldn’t gain enough leverage to get back up.

 

“I didn’t want you there!”

 

“Why the fuck not?”

 

“It was too dangerous!”

 

“That’s the point! If it wasn’t for Cobb coming to get me, you all probably would have been dead!”

 

“Oh yes,” Arthur rolled his eyes, baring his teeth. “You really were the key player in all of this weren’t you?”

 

“That’s not what I mean, dammit!”

 

“I certainly hope not, because you were definitely not much help!” Arthur accused viciously, still fighting to break Eames’ hold.

 

“No?” Eames asked, faking mild surprise. The act was ugly though, poisoned by his anger.

 

“No!” Arthur shouted, the volume of his voice having a strong effect since he rarely raised his voice. “Wandering around improvising and ignoring my carefully laid out plan!”

 

“I was doing my job!” Eames snapped.

 

“So was I!” Arthur roared back. They both paused for a moment, blinking and taking in this long overdue realization. “You could have been hurt,” he argued darkly, still remembering the anxious concern that had been boiling inside him since Dom went to get Eames from Mombasa.

 

“You could have been hurt, too.” There was worry in Eames’ tone too, beneath the anger. Perhaps fuelling the anger.

 

They were both breathing hard and Arthur looked away. “Fuck, if I wanted to get into an argument then I’d go back to Anna.”

 

Sometime when they hadn’t been paying attention Arthur and Eames had begun a relationship, full of all the wonderful benefits and tricky pitfalls.

 

Eames glared down at Arthur, his body trembling with rage. “You’re just like Toby. If it’s not your way then it’s wrong, plain and simple.”

 

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” Arthur yelled, feeling tears stinging at the corners of his eyes but refusing to let them fall.

 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you!” Eames yelled back, and Arthur felt a few tears fall onto his face, which spurred his own tears to fight for their own freedom, Eames’ leading the rebellion.

 

Suddenly every aspect of their lives collided in a brilliant ball of fire, which could just as easily create as it could consume and destroy everything. They were no longer just co-workers and teammates. They were no longer just friends and fuck buddies. They were no longer just partners. They were absolutely everything to each other, and the sudden realization was jarring for both of them.

 

They both had a few stray tears escaping from too many pent up emotions but all they could do was stare at each other. Then Eames glanced away and began to stand up, removing his body’s weight from Arthur and freeing him from the floor. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that...”

 

Arthur reached up with shaking hands and wrapped his arms around Eames’ neck, forcing him to remain kneeling above Arthur on the floor. One of his hands remained on Eames’ neck while the other slid down Eames’ spine, feeling the strong smooth expanse of Eames’ back. Their eyes met and Arthur craned up to reach Eames’ lips even as he dragged Eames back down to meet him. “I love you too.”

 

Their lips smashed together like it was their first time, their bodies melding together like they were two halves of a whole. It sounded cliché even as they thought it, but it was undeniably true. Eames came to rest between Arthur’s spread legs, one of Arthur’s legs hooking over Eames’ own as he arched up for more contact. Their hips aligned and slotted together like well-oiled, custom-made machinery, and their heartbeats fell into a common rhythm like two long lost friends falling into an easy conversation like they had never been separated.

 

They didn’t make it to the bed. Hell, they didn’t even make it to the couch. They quickly peeled their clothing away and continued to kiss in Arthur’s hotel room entryway. The carpet was clean and didn’t hurt too much as long as Eames was careful not to shove Arthur around and cause rug burn. And since they were too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface, it stands to reason that they weren’t willing to spend the time going to the bathroom to search for lotion.

 

It felt like time stood still as they pressed their lips together, each kiss and caress meaning everything they had ever wanted to show and say over the last five years. It was thrilling and addicting in a new way, knowing they were allowed to express their love, that the other felt the same way. The kiss lasted so long they were both hard and leaking as they rutted against one another on the carpet, only pulling away to calm down a moment before they came too soon.

 

Eames spent a long time after that preparing Arthur with his fingers and tongue, his movements aided by saliva. They hadn’t tried rimming before, both of them skirting the idea since it seemed too intimate. But now Arthur was arching up against Eames’ mouth with his head flung back against the carpet, staring unseeing at the ceiling. He begged Eames to stop. He begged Eames to continue. He begged for just about anything as Eames speared him again and again with his hot, wet tongue.

 

At some point Arthur had to close his legs, barring Eames from continuing. Eames glanced up at him in confusion but didn’t need to ask what was wrong when he saw Arthur’s flushed, overwhelmed face. Eames was quite sure that if he touched Arthur’s swollen cock, Arthur would be finished. So he pulled away and, after taking a moment to allow his body to calm, Arthur pressed Eames down onto the carpet and slicked Eames’ cock up with his own saliva. The blowjob didn’t last long before Eames was nudging Arthur away and dragging him into another kiss.

 

They were both aroused beyond belief. They had been fucking for nearly five years and although they had shared some fantastic, mind-numbing orgasms, it had never been like this. Doing something forbidden had given them an added thrill of arousal, but nothing compared to the intoxicating feeling of holding the person you loved in your arms and having your feelings returned through warm embraces and carnal passion. They didn’t think about Anna. They didn’t think about Toby. They only thought about their last five years together, remembering intimate conversations and each tender look, touch, kiss, sigh, and moan.

 

The pace changed when Eames finally entered Arthur, pressing his back against the carpet and covering Arthur’s body with his own. It had been a while and the preparation was not perfect, leaving a few moments of stinging pain as Arthur adjusted, but it still felt like coming home. Their kisses and preparation had been slow, teasing and affectionate, but now their pace grew frantic. It was like they had never done this before, like they were desperate for their completion as they rode each other’s bodies on waves of pleasure for the first time.

 

And yet Eames knew the perfect angle to strike Arthur’s prostate on each thrust and Arthur knew the perfect amount to clench around Eames’ moving flesh to make the other man curse and buck forward without a rhythm. They couldn’t last long, both of their bodies already thrumming with pent up adrenaline and arousal, spurred on by newly welcomed emotions of love and affection.

 

Eames placed one hand on the carpet for balance while his other hand cradled the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur had both arms flung around the broad width of Eames’ shoulders, his hands and forearms spread across bare, flexing skin as he held Eames against him. They were both letting out loud noises of pleasure, gasps and whines and moans that no doubt scandalized anyone who walked by in the hallway. They were only silenced when their lips pressed together again, their mouths opening up to allow their tongues to duel as their bodies continued to rock together.

 

When Arthur felt a delicious, unbearable pressure building in the base of his spine he dug his nails into Eames’ skin and moaned into his lover’s mouth. Eames pulled away, both of them panting as their eyes met. “I love you,” Eames said, slamming his cock into Arthur in deliberate, claiming thrusts.

 

Arthur moaned again and let the back of his head rest against the carpet, though he made sure that their eyes remained locked. Eames’ blue eyes looked like a stormy sea as they clouded over with lust. “I love you too,” he returned, eager to say the words again, to taste them on his lips.

 

Eames smiled down at him, his eyes soft. And then, just as Eames thrust in one last time, pressing the crown of his cock against the bundle of nerves deep inside Arthur, Eames whispered: “Marry me.”

 

Arthur threw his head back and groaned, eye contact lost when his vision faded. His body jerked violently with his orgasm as he shot multiple ropes of hot come across his and Eames’ stomachs. He felt Eames unravel as well, his scorching essence filling Arthur up to the brim as he continued to thrust in and out, Arthur’s body milking him through his climax.

 

Eventually they were both spent and Eames collapsed on top of Arthur, only conscious enough to shift part of his weight off his lover. Arthur had rug burn on his back and shoulders but he didn’t care; he felt completely and utterly loved. Their bodies calmed down slowly, both of them keeping the other warm in the hotel’s air conditioning. It felt like they could stay like that forever, just the two of them. Then Eames’ words returned to Arthur’s mind...

 

 _Marry me_.

 

Arthur and Eames really hadn’t been able to do ‘commitment’ even when they tried. Except, of course, the commitment to each other they had maintained over the last five years. 

 

“Eames...”

 

“Nevermind, Arthur,” Eames began, sounding panicked, probably thinking Arthur was going to get angry or scared at the sudden change in commitment. “We don’t have to—!”

 

“Did you mean it?”

 

Eames kneeled above Arthur, knees and hands shaking slightly after their coupling but still framing his body like a frame hugged a painting. “I mean it. I want to spend my life with you.”

 

Arthur wound his fingers into Eames’ hair, massaging the back of his scalp slightly to make the worried look on Eames’ face fade away. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he agreed with a smile as he pulled Eames back down into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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